Source :pixabay

It had been raining since morning, covering the quiet city in a gray blanket. The reddish reflections of the street lights were becoming blurred by the thick fog; the smell of slippery sidewalks hit her nose—a mixture of the smell of burnt wood and old paper burning in the stove. Jenny pulled the hood even tighter.

Jenny was very quiet. She always thought she was alone. One morning, Jenny was standing by the pond. In the dim light of the foggy morning, Jenny saw a small dragon. Jenny was surprised! What did Jenny think she saw?

Jenny did not expect to see a small dragon. Jenny stopped suddenly. It seemed to be the sound of someone's familiar voice—but not in a whisper. Jenny thought she would catch the dragon. So Jenny stretched out her finger.

Jenny felt calm when she saw the dragon. Jenny thought the dragon might be her friend. A passion was working in Jenny at that time. So she thought of the fierce otherworldly creature as her friend. She thought of her own lonely companion.

Jenny thought to herself that fire came out of the dragon's mouth. If the dragon burned Jenny in the fire, what would Jenny do? After so much thought, Jenny reached out to catch the dragon. Just then, the dragon gently sat on her fingers. Something light, warm, like its glow, lit a light on Jenny's spine. Jenny's chest suddenly became light—the tension in her head dropped. She laughed—a smile like the bursting of an endless bubble, which had been hidden for a long time.

"Who are you?" Jenny asked in a whisper, surprised herself and unable to believe that she was talking. Jenny was surprised to see the dragon talking.

The dragon simply flapped its wings and made a soft melody. The colors played waves in the dragon's throat and Jeannie understood—this dragon was not talking, but speaking through memories, missing smiles, and those small joys. Each color was a word, each flicker a memory.

The two of them walked down the street—the dragon was throwing colors into Jeannie's ears, each color awakening a small memory—her father's voice, childhood tricks with a friend, the smell of her mother's kitchen. Each color came and cut sharply through the burden that had accumulated in Jeannie's chest.

They stopped at a crossroads—near an old small dusty electronic pole where the wind was shaking especially evenly. The dragon stopped suddenly, its body taking on a scorching color—from blue to green. “You know?” The folds of his wings moved, “I don’t just carry colors. I search for lost feelings—those that people hide, trapped behind fear or shame. I release them when I find their address.”

Source :pixabay

Jeannie was startled. “Then why did you choose me?”

The dragon was silent for a moment; then a light glassy glow flashed in his eyes. “Because there is a small grain in your loneliness—neglected but strong. I didn’t find it before; they were all inside you, hanging in a basket. I am just a key. Will you open it, or not?”

Jeannie reached out—a piece of shiny scale fell down from the dragon’s lower belly; it was small, pinkish-green in size. “Take it,” the dragon said, “this is a color-wing. When you become silent, it will remind you quietly—you will only hear it.”

The dragon looked up at the sky; A glint rose in his throat, “All feelings want to go somewhere. I am here—if you are, I will return when the city needs color.” His wings drew a long line in the air—the street was now being painted with sparkling strokes. “And you—preserve this scale. Whenever trouble comes, it will be your light.”

The dragon flew. it left behind a thin trace—a colored line, which suddenly spread from one side of the city to the other—people stared in surprise; the gray streets of the past were now filled with light colors. People began to find their own little dragons—the peace hidden on an old woman’s shoulder, the new curiosity in the hands of a teenager. Instead of becoming insignificant, the city slowly gasped—the color spread as if someone were painting a big picture.

She looked back from the evening mist. The dragon disappeared into a small puff of smoke, and Jenny's chest suddenly heaved—this time the cry was of liberation. She smiled, and the smile drifted away on the wind beyond the city—some might find their lost color again, some might learn to laugh again. Jenny never thought that this fierce otherworldly creature would leave her alone. And here my story ends.

I would like to invite my three friends for participate this competition like @@@selina1,@mariyafrin,@damithudaya

Best regards

@jannatakter24